Remembering Wilderness Ranch

It was the summer of my fifteenth birthday, and I was set for my upcoming journey to the Canadian Rockies and ‘Wilderness Ranch’.

One week full of riding horses and bushwhacking out into the wilderness of the foothills in the Canadian Rockies. (The second year I went, we took a real chuck wagon on the trail for five days and slept under a tarp slung over a recently felled sapling tree. What memories!)

My parents and younger brothers drove up with us, as they had a huge van and could help load supplies. Once we made it into Alberta, I knew I was in a completely different world. A beautiful one at that!

Let’s add one more thing. It was my first time on the back of a horse all by myself and no one walking with a lead rope.

I was petrified and excited all at the same time.

My horse, Smokey, was a dotted white and grey stallion, who was known for being slow and gentle. Thank the Lord…

We were truly in the place of Creation. Jutting mountains, peaceful vistas and densely wooded forests surrounded us at the main camp.

Those of you who remember your first “bolt” experience with a horse will appreciate this little story of when Smokey decided to ‘take the lead’….

We had been trotting along, my bum was getting a bit sore, and the horses decided to stop for some wild strawberries on the side of a grassy cliff. Yes, that’s right – the grass went straight down! Wild strawberries were more alluring for the horses, I guess.

Smokey went a little too close to the edge for my new horse-riding comfort, and I reigned him back. He must have gotten ticked off, and turned away from the others. Then, he spied some friends of his about four or five football fields away under a tree. They were eating.

Smokey took OFF!

The reigns flew out of my inexperienced fingers and I was holding onto the horn for my dear life, screaming “STOP STOP STOP SMOKEY STOP WHOA WHOA”.

No way was I going to let go of the horn to reach for those reigns! I would have fallen off and died, I was sure of it.

Amidst the wild bumping ride of a horse in a full run I saw that there was a lovely barbed wire fence in between us and Smokey’s friends.

I was gonna die.

My screams took on a stronger piercing tone and I chanced a look behind me.

Flying on his horse, riding like a cowboy with a “HYA! HYA!” came my pastor.

Stetson hat and all.

No joke.

He pulled up alongside Smokey about ten feet before we hit the barbed wire fence.

I slid off to the ground and wept with gratitude for my life and for my wonderful cowboy pastor.

Pastor Tom got on the horse and showed Smokey what was what. Turned him to the left. Turned him to the right. Smacked his hump and told him if he did that again to one of his charges, he knew where he would be headed…

He then instructed me to get back on Smokey.

No way, Jose. I was not getting on another horse as long as I lived.

My childhood Pastor is a slick talker, I think. Somehow I ended up on the back of Smokey, and we had a wonderful six more days of exploring in the Canadian Rockies.

Bushwhacking trails, peering out over miles and miles of a beautiful canyon, and riding together as one in the mountains.

Smokey calmed down and got to eat with his buddies, and I got the experience of a lifetime.

Complete with kai-bo’s, tent stories and a prowling bear amongst the dwellings. But that is a story for another animal trax.

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